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Tales from the Trail

So, here’s what happened today. I get up from a sound sleep, open the back door to my little white house in the woods, and peek outside. It’s a chilly thirty degrees and the cold air pries open my eyes. I step back inside and pile on the warm layers. Then I strap on my sneakers.

Today is the last day of deer hunting season. I definitely don’t want to be mistaken for a deer today, so I put on my hunter’s orange cap and vest, and charge outside. Well, more like tip toe outside, until I muster the courage to do this–I don’t want to be shot, skinned, and have my head displayed above a fireplace mantle.

No hunters in sight, so I breathe easier. After I huff and puff through the winding woodland trails, I circle back to the house and check my time on the wall clock as soon as I step inside. Not too shabby—fifty-two minutes—and that’s not counting the time it took to drag a fallen tree off the trail.

The animals in these woods are natural athletes. I’ll bet the deer excel on the long jump. I didn’t see any deer today on my run. They probably know it’s hunting season and hide. They usually bolt when they see me. Sometimes all I see is a flash of white disappearing over a hill, their tail raised high as they bound away.

The squirrels aren’t slow here either. You can tell they aren’t city-slicker squirrels. Unlike at my city home where squirrels hang from a tree and stare down at barking dogs just to make them mad, here the squirrels are paranoid and run at the slightest hint of danger. I mean, these aren’t normal squirrels–these are Ninja squirrels. I saw one drop fifteen or twenty feet from a tree as I approached, and it took off like a rocket once it’s little feet hit the ground.